Irresistible? (12 page)

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Authors: Stephanie Bond

BOOK: Irresistible?
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Ellie's heart drooped. Mark Blackwell's career meant more to him than anything else in the world. Maybe she'd caught his eye, or rather, his crotch, for a few days because of these pheromones, but she was fooling herself if she thought she'd ever be able to compete with his first love—his job. He had no room for a woman in his life, least of all a woman like her.
“I'm sorry you got dragged into this,” he said, reaching over to grasp her hand. “It'll die down in a few weeks, and I'll simply say we broke it off.” He squeezed her fingers. “By the way, Ivan seemed taken with your roommate Molly. Why haven't you mentioned her before?”
His hand was so warm, his touch so welcome. Ellie said nothing and just stared at his fingers. “It never came up,” she mumbled distractedly. Just a few hours ago she'd told herself to seize the moment. And that was before she knew he could induce her to orgasm, fully dressed and in a crowded room. She felt heat travel up her face. Would he kiss her good-night, or had she scared him off completely? Surely he'd guessed how long she'd been celibate if toe sex sent her over the edge.
When he parked in front of her building, he hesitated slightly. “It's okay,” Ellie rushed to assure him. “You don't have to walk me up.” She scrambled to loosen her seat belt and find her purse.
“No,” he said, turning off the ignition. “I want to.”
They walked quickly and quietly into her building and up the stairs. Ellie's heart pounded furiously as she fumbled with the key. Mark took it from her, then unlocked the door easily. The door swung inward, creaking, and darkness stretched before them. Was it her imagination, or had her bed suddenly become a living, breathing entity, palpitating and calling to them from down the hall and behind a closed door?
“Coffee?” she squeaked, flipping on the kitchen light.
“Sure,” Mark answered. “A shot of caffeine for the drive home won't hurt.” He smiled at her, lowering himself into a kitchen chair. She rummaged nervously for a filter, and managed to get the coffeemaker going within a few tense minutes. “Well,” she said brightly, turning to face Mark. “What an interesting evening.” She bent to remove her shoes, nudging them under a chair as she rubbed one throbbing arch.
“Yes,” Mark agreed in a choked voice. She glanced up to see his eyes riveted on her stockinged feet, and she immediately realized her mistake. She watched as Mark moved in slow motion, standing and reaching for her, pulling her into his arms. Lifting her face to his, she offered her lips to him. His mouth descended on hers, his lips moving hungrily, as if he were a starved man and she a bountiful fare.
Ellie's knees weakened and she swayed into him, twining her arms around his neck for support. He groaned and his voice vibrated inside her mouth, inciting her to respond in kind. Drawing her against him, he lifted her off the ground to settle fully against his arousal. Wild barbs of desire knifed through her as Ellie inhaled the scent of his skin, felt his need for her pushing against her stomach. Mark's hands slid over her back and waist, gripping, massaging, caressing. She felt her nipples bud and bloom against his chest, and raised one leg to hook around his thigh. Immediately, his hands sought her lace-covered rear, exposed by her movement. His breathing became more ragged, until he finally raised his head.
“Ellie,” he whispered hoarsely. “I'd like to see that tattoo.”
She smiled languidly, desire and... love?... expanding her heart She might regret this tomorrow, but tomorrow lay a world away, and tonight she needed to live. “I can't walk unless you put me down,” she said, referring to her dangling toes.
In response, he swung her up into his arms. “Where's your bedroom?” he asked, his eyes dark with passion. Ellie directed him, her arms still around his neck, her pulse beating out of control during their brief journey. Mark lay her on the bed, then left her long enough to close the door. The only light came from a small window. She watched him move across the room, his movements unhurried. When he returned, he was removing his tie.
“Let me,” she said, reaching for him. She sat up, and with deft fingers, made short work of his shirt buttons, then stripped the garment from his back. How many times had she thought of him standing before her like this, bare-chested, the way he looked in his office when she'd taken his picture? He was breathtaking. His hands stilled her when she moved to his waistband.
“I want to see you,” he breathed. “I have to see you.” Blazing a trail across her skin, his hands enveloped her, moving around to find the zipper at her back. Ellie heard the slide of the enclosure giving way, and felt the fabric fall from her shoulders. Mark leaned toward her, easing her onto the soft comforter, and slipped the dress to her waist. Instantly he found her lace-covered breasts, kissing and suckling through the fabric. Ellie moaned and arched her back, thrusting the small peaks up for his onslaught. Without taking his mouth from her, he lifted her hips and eased the dress down her legs. She heard the whoosh of the fabric as it landed somewhere on the floor.
When Mark drew back long enough to take in the sight of Ellie lying before him in black bra, panties, garter belt and stockings, he had to clench his teeth in resolve.
Hold on, man, hold on.
The fact that his body had been in a near-perpetual state of arousal throughout the evening convinced him his present control bordered on tenuous, at best. Slender and smooth, she was beautifully arched to reveal endless valleys and peaks to explore. From her shapely collarbone to the divot in her flat stomach, to the valley between her thighs hidden by her raised knees. Where to begin? Hours seemed woefully inadequate to sample Ellie's gifts, yet his body told him he had scant minutes left.
A loud groan escaped him as he stretched out beside her, capturing her mouth in a kiss that threatened to be his undoing when she wriggled against him. She turned in his arms and he managed to undo her bra, sending her small, full breasts tumbling into his hands. He dipped his head to taste their richness and grew heady from the overwhelming desire flooding his body. The intoxicating scent of her skin took him near the brink. Such exquisite torture he'd never had to endure before, and Mark knew he couldn't take much more.
Her small fingers splayed across his back then down to his waist, struggling briefly with his zipper, then helping him drag the pants down with her feet. He kicked them off, his breath leaving him when Ellie reached to clasp his stiff manhood. She stroked him within milliseconds of exploding. He grabbed her hand to still her movements.
“I'm not superhuman,” he groaned, rolling over to lie between her legs. Mark took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then undid her garter belt. Thoughts of slowly rolling her thigh-high stockings down and off her pretty feet flickered through his mind, but he knew he'd be lucky to remove her panties in one piece. Hot need billowed in him, and he tugged her underwear down hurriedly, raising her knees to speed the process. A glimpse of dense dark blond curls registered in his mind before he returned to the cradle between her legs. His heat-seeking member rushed to her entrance.
“Mark,” she whispered, “I'm not protected.”
Sanity flashed and he lowered his head. “Of course,” he said, then gritted his teeth. Sighing, he gently rolled off her and lay still, fighting to gain control. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I lost my head.”
Ellie sat up and reached to open a drawer in her nightstand. “I have regular and extra-large,” she announced, rummaging through its contents.
Mark bounced upright. “Whichever you think.”
She peered at him, a smile playing on her lips. “Extra-large.”
It seemed to take hours for her to roll the condom into place, and Mark shook with his need to make love to her. At last, she lay back and pulled him to her, her neck arched, leaving it exposed for his kisses. He licked at the hollow beneath her chin, then found an earlobe to nuzzle as he eased himself into her warmth. Their moans mingled as he stilled, taking a few seconds to experience her. She tightened around him and Mark tensed to hold on a little longer. Just long enough for her to—
A long scream escaped her lips and she clawed his back in the throes of her passion. Amazement registered for an instant, but quickly gave way to gratitude as he began to move within her, feeling free now to expend himself. The mewling sounds she moaned into his ear urged him on. He felt his senses soar, his body tense in preparation for release, then shuddered again and again as ecstasy delivered him from his suffering.
Not until minutes later, as he lay nuzzling a pert nipple and feeling her heart beat against his cheek, did Mark realize he still hadn't noticed a tattoo.
 
MARK OPENED HIS EYES, disoriented at first. Then he remembered he slept in Ellie's bed. He turned his head to see the clock. Three in the morning.
Usually he lingered with a lover until morning, but now he had an overwhelming need to go home. Or more to the point, to get out of Ellie's bed. The walls of her bedroom, covered with eclectic groupings of prints and various bric-a-brac, suddenly seemed to close in on him. As noiselessly as possible, he got up, gathered his clothing and dressed. He winced at the sight of the wadded pile he'd made of the dress in which she'd bewitched him and every man at the party. Carefully, he picked it up and folded it neatly, placing it on the dressing table.
Mark walked back to the bed, planning to kiss her, but instead stopped to watch her sleep, her breasts easing up and down with her deep, even breathing. A tingling sensation settled in his chest and made his own breathing difficult. After a last glance, he opened her bedroom door, stepped into the hall and closed it behind him.
Silently, he retraced his steps to the front door, then stopped when he realized someone was unlocking the door from the hallway. His heart raced. A burglar? Then Mark relaxed. It was probably just one of Ellie's roommates.
Molly stepped inside, then her eyes widened in fear, a key dangling from a manicured hand raised to defend herself.
Mark rushed to explain in a loud whisper, “I'm Mark Blackwell, Ellie's, uh, friend. We met earlier this evening.” He smiled apologetically and pointed to the door. “I was just leaving.” He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.
The short drive north seemed interminable, not just because Mark fought falling asleep, but because his big lonely bed no longer seemed so inviting. Ellie's sleep-softened face came to him. and her plump nipples sitting atop her breasts like puffs of pink whipped cream. He moistened his lips involuntarily, and nearly ran off the shoulder of the highway. Loud music from his stereo and a full-blast air conditioner got him home safely.
The clock on his nightstand read ten minutes past four. Mark began to strip off his clothes again, then grimaced as his shirt raked across his uncomfortably tender back. One glance in the mirror showed why, and his mouth fell open. Bright red welts and a few tiny drops of dried blood marked his back where Ellie had clawed him in her passion. Too tired to register more than passing astonishment, Mark climbed into bed. He had just closed his eyes, when his nose began to itch. He rubbed a knuckle over it, annoyed. At the same time, something warm and furry touched his foot. Mark shouted and sat up in the bed, scrambling for the light.
A muffled yowl sounded under the covers. Mark jumped out of the bed and watched the lump travel beneath the covers to the pillow where his head had rested. Esmerelda poked her orange head out to peer at him angrily.
“Scat,” Mark barked, buck-naked and waving his arms. The cat blinked. A fit of sneezing seized him, sending him in search of a handkerchief. “Get out of my bed,” he commanded, gesturing again. Esmerelda yawned. When Mark reached for her, she flattened her ears against her head, and flung an evil hiss toward him. He jumped back, wondering if the beast had been declawed. Deciding he'd rather not find out tonight, Mark tramped noisily down the hall to a guest room, sneezing the entire way.
As he punched down a lumpy pillow, Mark cursed sourly. He'd left one unsettling she-cat only to come home to another.
7
E
LLIE AWOKE with the most delicious feeling in her bones. Her hazy mind struggled to remember what event had triggered this languid, buoyant state. She'd won the lottery...no. Her paintings were being offered at an exclusive auction...no. She'd slept with Mark Blackwell...
Ellie's eyes popped open. Yes! A tentative lifting of her knee triggered soreness in several little-used muscles, and she grimaced. Sitting up and pulling the sheet around her breasts, she scanned the room for evidence of Mark's presence. Her dress had been folded neatly. The indention in the pillow next to hers felt cold.
A foreign scent assailed her nostrils. Sex. Their fragrances lingered on the morning air. Ellie pulled her pillow higher against the headboard, and reclined against it with a sigh. On impulse, she pulled the other pillow over her face and inhaled his aroma, then settled it across her stomach. Her heart raced. Now what?
A knock at her door stymied her rising panic. “Ellie, are you up?” Manny's voice was soft but insistent.
“Just a minute,” she called, reaching to pull a short terry robe from its home on the bedpost. She still wore her stockings and loosened garter belt, although the garments had twisted uncomfortably. She tied the frayed robe belt around her waist and tucked the ends under her hips, then straightened the covers around her. “You can come in.”
“Breakfast in bed,” Manny announced grandly, entering with a laden bed tray.
Ellie grinned. “And what, may I ask, is the occasion?”
Manny smiled wide, his eyes knowing, as he set the tray on her lap. “Your introduction back into a morally bankrupt society.”
“What makes you think—”
“Don't bother denying it.” Manny held up his hand. “I passed Mark on his way out this morning.” He smiled, triumphant. “So?” he prompted, settling in cross-legged at the foot of the bed.
“So what?” she said, taking a bite of toast.
“For heaven's sake, give me the details.”
As Ellie chewed, the events of the entire evening began to resurface in florid detail. She winced.
“Come on, 'fess up,” Manny urged. “You set Ray Ivan straight about your engagement, right?”
Ellie bit into her bottom lip.
Manny's eyes rolled back. “You didn't?”
“There didn't seem to be a good time to mention it.”
“Unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head. “Your life is better than a soap opera. So tell me, how did you go from being a fake fiancée—” he leaned over to retrieve a stray earring from the floor “—to a genuine seductress?” He dangled the bauble for emphasis.
The quick sip of juice did not lessen the heat that rushed to Ellie's face. “He brought me home, then I asked him in for coffee, and the next thing I knew, he was carrying me in here.” She shrugged.
“Well, that explains the full pot of cold coffee,” Manny said sarcastically, then he brightened. “Was it earth-shattering?”
Ellie tried to hold back a grin, but couldn't. “I can't remember having two really great orgasms in one night.”
“Two? I'm impressed. Didn't think Mr. Republican had it in him.”
“Well, one occurred at the dinner party—”
“What?”
“It's not what you think. We were fully clothed, and sitting down. After you left, I got a little tipsy and started playing footsie with his... well, anyway, he grabbed my foot and the next thing I know, I'm screaming like a banshee in the middle of the appetizer course.”
“You got off on him playing with your
feet?
You were in worse shape than I thought, woman.” He howled with laughter, pounding his knees with his fists. Wiping his eyes, he suddenly sobered. “Has anything like that ever happened before? I mean, do you think the pheromones had something to do with your reaction?”
Ellie took another drink. “No, it's never happened before, and yes, I think it has everything to do with the pills.” She hadn't meant to sound so glum.
“Did Ray Ivan ask about me?”
“Manny, you're playing with fire.”
“I think it's fun.”
“He's a sweet,
straight
old widower. If you took off your skirt, he'd probably have heart failure.”
He waved off her concern. “It doesn't matter, El, I'll never see the man again. By the way—” he wagged his eyebrows “—when will you see Mark?”
Ellie gasped and looked at the clock. “I have to be at his office for a sitting in forty-five minutes! What am I going to say to him after last night?”
“Hmm.” Manny tapped his cheek in mock deep thought. “How about ‘thank you'?”
 
“THANK YOU,” Ellie said as Mark held the door to the office building open wide enough to allow her to wheel in her bike. They'd arrived at the same time, Mark rounding the corner from the parking garage just in time to see Ellie ride up in front of the building.
He smiled stiffly at her, feeling awkward. She certainly looked chipper today in pink bike shorts and a glove-fitting zebra-print tank top. But then, she didn't have to apply salve to her battle wounds, then don a starched dress shirt for a sitting. Her dangling black claw earrings were a staunch reminder of the injuries she'd inflicted last night. Still, he had to admit it was the greatest sex he'd experienced. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease his taut skin as they walked through the reception area to the elevators. Neither of them spoke on the ride up. She looked completely at ease, and he didn't have a clue what to say about last night. Finally, she broke the silence.
“How's Esmerelda?” she asked, reaching over to extract a long orange hair from his shirtsleeve.
Mark frowned and brushed his sleeve with his hand, dislodging more hairs. He promptly sneezed. “Your cat has taken up residence in my bedroom. In my bed, to be more precise.”
“Really? She hardly ever leaves her bed at night. She must be under a lot of stress, being in new surroundings. Or there could be something wrong with the room where you put her bed.”
A flash of annoyance surfaced, but he forced patience into his voice. “Your feline already has the run of my house. What could possibly be wrong?” The bell sounded and the doors slid open.
Ellie stepped off the elevator and guided her bicycle toward his office. “The room where you put her bed, what color is it?”
“Blue.”
Ellie smacked her handlebars with one hand and nodded. “That's it—she hates blue.”
Mark took a mighty breath and rubbed one temple. His aggravated allergies were giving him a headache. And now the allergen didn't approve of his decor.
“Hey, you two,” Patrick called, walking toward them, smiling.
“Oh, damn,” Mark muttered, then donned an appropriate smile. “Hey, yourself,” he said as Patrick drew nearer. “Nice party.”
“You two were the spotlight,” Patrick insisted, then turned to Ellie. “And I can't tell you what a pleasure it is to meet the woman who's tamed this maverick. I never thought I'd see the day Mark Blackwell settled down.”
Ellie shrugged and nodded, her expression one of agreeable shock. “Amazing, isn't it?”
“Actually, Patrick—” Mark began.
“Good morning, all!” Ray Ivan boomed from down the hall. “Well, if it isn't the happy couple.” He walked up and patted Ellie's arm, then clapped Mark on his raw back, sending spasms of pain down his spine.
Mark inhaled sharply. “Good morning, sir.”
Ivan pointed to the canvas and paint-stained tackle box strapped to the panniers of Ellie's bike. “Working on the portrait, today, are we?”
She smiled wide, her eyes bright. “We sure are.”
Mark's partner nodded agreeably, then said. “Listen, kids, let me know as soon as you set a wedding date, because it's been my policy to start a brokerage account for my married employees as a college fund for their children. Right, Patrick?”
“Right,” Beecham said.
“Children?” Mark and Ellie said in unison.
“Monica told me last night that you plan to have a big family,” Ivan said.
Mark remembered Ellie's words at the dinner table and felt his underarms grow moist. They'd very nearly started a family last night. He looked at Ellie, and she looked back, eyes wide.
Ivan laughed, slapping Mark's back again, twice. “Didn't mean to put you on the spot. Just let me know, Blackwell. And congratulations again, you picked a beauty.” He winked at Ellie, then engaged Patrick in a conversation as they walked away.
“I need some aspirin,” Mark said, moving toward his office.
Once the door closed behind them, Ellie took a deep breath. Trying to sound casual as she lowered her kickstand, she said, “Why did you leave in the middle of the night?”
“Huh?” Mark swallowed the pills he'd shaken into his palm. “Oh, well, I knew I had to come in here this morning, and there were some papers at home I wanted to go over.” His voice sounded vague. “And don't forget about the cat,” he added, his eyes darting around the room. “I had to check on her.”
Ellie frowned slightly. He wasn't very convincing. Obviously he preferred hurrying home to handle work details to dawdling in her bed. A career man, through and through.
“By the way,” he said, “I ran into Molly while I was leaving your apartment. I didn't see a third bedroom. Where does she stay?”
Ellie's mind raced. “Uh, she stays in Manny's room.”
“Ivan will be heartbroken,” he said.
“Oh, they have an open relationship,” she improvised. “You never see them together.” She swallowed, then scrambled to change the subject. “This session shouldn't take too long. All I really need to do is a composition sketch.”
“Sure,” he said in a distracted tone. “Where do you want me?”
They locked gazes. Ellie's heart pounded as snatches of their lovemaking spun through her mind.
Mark cleared his throat. “We really should talk—”
The phone rang, breaking the spell.
“I'll get set up,” she explained, gesturing to her supplies. She kicked herself mentally. Mark Blackwell was the epitome of her father in his younger days. Hadn't she always promised herself she deserved more than her mother bad put up with? So why on earth was she entertaining thoughts of a future with him? It had to be the pheromones.
She heard Mark push a button. “Mark Blackwell,” he said, all business.
“Marcus!” his mother's voice screeched over the speakerphone.
Ellie watched as Mark rounded his desk to sit down, worry in his face. “Mom? Where are you calling from? Is everything all right?”
“No!” she continued more shrilly than before. “How can everything be all right when I arrive at Stella's house for bridge and she announces to me that my own son is getting married?”
“Mom—”
“And
please
don't tell me it's to that fruitcake you brought to the reunion. I lived in the bathroom for three days—”
Mark stabbed the intercom button and picked up the receiver, then spun around in the chair, his back to Ellie, murmuring low into the phone.
Oh, great, Ellie thought, the woman
does
hate me. And the only thing she needed in her life less than a workaholic boyfriend was a workaholic mama's boy.
“Mom, don't worry,” she heard him say. “It's all a big mistake that got way out of hand.” He paused. “Mom, if I were getting married, don't you think you'd be the first to know?”
Probably even before the bride, Ellie mused as she unpacked her supplies.
“Yeah, you can reassure Stella she doesn't have to buy an expensive wedding gift, after all. I have to go, Mom. I'll call you later.” He hung up and sighed. “Sorry about that.” He stood and walked toward her, shrugging sheepishly. “Mom is a little excitable, if you hadn't noticed.”
“Oh, really?” Ellie said, injecting a hint of sarcasm into her voice. “Did you set her straight about our little pretend engagement?”
He did have the good grace to blush. “I told her it was all a mistake.”
“She didn't sound like the same woman who's desperate for you to get married.”
He smiled wryly, shrugging again. “I guess when it comes right down to it, she doesn't want another woman in my life.”
“More to the point, she doesn't want
me
in your life.”
Mark pursed his lips. “That's my fault. I shouldn't have asked you to pull all those stunts at the reunion. I guess my behavior was childish.” He looked into her eyes, and reached over to touch her hand. “I'm sorry, Ellie.”

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